Of Jealousy
by Kyla45
Summary: Misaki resumed his post, and cursed the woman with his eyes, hoping that by glaring enough he could somehow make her suffer everything he was imagining. He wasn't jealous, though, as if. Oneshot. Usami & Misaki


_O! beware, my lord, of jealousy;  
It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock  
The meat it feeds on.  
__  
_-William Shakespeare, _Othello_

* * *

Misaki knew better than to judge a book by its cover. He was raised better than that.

" Oh, Usami-san, you are quite the charmer."

But really, this stupid woman looked like...like trouble embodied. She was too beautiful. She was too nice, and above all, she was too close to Usami.

" You flatter me, madame," Usami replied, slurring his words, arm loose around her waist. To say he was a little drunk would be an understatement.

The woman giggled, leaning into his touch. Misaki glared at her, having no interest in hiding his displeasure.

A million thoughts went through his mind at once, jumbled and tangled together in one great big mass of hate. _How dare she?_ He thought venomously, as he watched her run a painted finger nail down his chest.

Trying to stop from trembling in his rage, Misaki looked away. _How dare he?_ Drunk or not, stupid party or not, Usami had no right...that bastard wasn't allowed...he just couldn't...

Feeling the urge to shout and cry taking over, Misaki knew he had to distract himself somehow.

Distract himself before he lost it...

His eyes wandered back to Usami. Mistake, big mistake! She was _all over_ him, and he was allowing it. A garbled sound issued from his throat, and Misaki realized too late that his anger was manifesting itself in tears. He was crying...in front of all these people...crying, honest to God paining himself over this.

Misaki ducked to the loneliest corner he could find, fisting his balled hands into his eyes until he saw white spots. Breathing harshly, he composed himself as best he could. Then, he resumed his post, and cursed the woman with his eyes, hoping that by glaring enough he could somehow make her suffer everything he was imagining.

For the sake of appearance, was it? That Usami would touch her, and not Misaki? Because Usami had a reputation to keep up, because his publicists didn't think he should be known as gay?

Misaki wanted to kill them all, he wanted to kill Usami. But more than that, he wanted to _torture_ that woman, so that she would endure a slow and painful death.

Angry at himself for his vindictive (evil as hell) thoughts, he fell into his own personal black hole. Until this stupid party was over, until he didn't have to watch that woman whispering into Usami's ear, he would detach himself. After all, Misaki couldn't be a liability for Usami's reputation either, he couldn't cause a scene. That entailed _not_ tearing Usami away from the woman and beating her with a stick.

Usami was currently in the process of tipping back his head, a glass of wine at his lips. The woman had one hand dangerously low on his hip, holding him as he swayed, smiling sweetly. She took the emptied glass from him, giving him another while resting her other hand on his chest, fingers spread. Balancing on tiptoe now, she leaned close. Her lips slowly starting to inch towards Usami's...

" He's gay!" Misaki screamed at the top of his lungs, a hint of desperation mingled with the full blown rage.

Everyone turned their eyes to Misaki, who was currently red in the face with his fists clenched angrily at his side. His eyes were narrowed into slits, and what little could be seen of them were blazing with annoyance.

A man in a suit chuckled uncertainly, and the chain reaction was set in motion. Slowly, Misaki was ignored, and the chatter started up again. If the woman hanging off Usami had noticed Misaki, or his words, she didn't let on to it. In fact, the boy realized, there was no reason why she should care, why she should acknowledge those words to be directed at her.

If one person hadn't brushed off the crazy boy yelling about gay people, it was Usami. His eyes were turned thoughtfully to him, and Misaki only sneered in return. The woman was still touching him _everywhere_. At least she hadn't kissed him.

But God DAMN IT, if she didn't stop...if she didn't get her hands _off of him – right now_, Misaki was going to leave. Because there was no way he could stay here and see anymore and not do something rash. Rash being a relative term. If he smashed one of those disgusting looking hors d'oeuvres into her face, well, he couldn't be held accountable for his actions. It was her own fault.

Usami walked, well, stumbled away from the woman finally. _Finally. _She looked offended that he would leave without a parting word, or the promise to be back soon. _Serves her right,_ Misaki couldn't help but think, a satisfied smirk threatening at his lips.

Misaki watched with indifference as Usami made his way through the crowd, stopping in front of the boy at last, a lazy amusement spread on his visage like peanut butter.

Before the enraged boy could get a word in, Usami spoke.

" Are you, by chance, jealous?" he purred, velvety voice sinfully alluring when _it really shouldn't be right now._

'Fuck off' was on the tip of Misaki's tongue when his thought process was very rudely interrupted.

Usami roughly sealed his mouth over Misaki's, shoving his tongue through the startled boy's lips before he could even react.

Misaki tried to get away, really...he valiantly tried. But some part of him couldn't resist boasting the fact that _he_ was being kissed by Usami. No one else was kissing Usami, especially not that woman.

There was a low, insistent groan from Usami as his hands moved down the boy's back, tugging him closer. Misaki clutched at him, his legs quickly forgetting how to support him. When those cold hands snuck under his clothing, fingertips brushing his heated skin, Misaki forgot how to breathe for a short moment.

Lips separating for a quick gasp of air, they kissed again. It was messy, but Misaki moaned all the same, not mindful of much as he arched into the body against his. He was beginning to feel light-headed, when Usami suddenly drew away.

Misaki was quick to fall back into reality, figuratively landing hard on his ass. The crowd was staring at them, some disgusted, some amused, some too shocked to move, making comedic statues.

But Misaki only noticed the woman, looking flummoxed, maybe a little hurt, and above all, very obviously affronted. Such a beauty as herself couldn't possibly _not have _any man she set her sights on, gay or not. She was that confident, and now she was all the more outraged because of it.

A slow grin spread on Misaki's face, and before he knew it, he was laughing uncontrollably. He wanted to scream again, only this time three distinct words took shape in the mess of his thoughts.

_In your face!_

The boy was giddy, chortling raucously with abandon. His hands grabbed Usami's waist for balance as his vision was clouded with tears of mirth. He buried his face into the older man's suit to try and stifle his hysterics.

When he finally stopped, the woman was suddenly there, eyes a giveaway of her intent. Her hand raised, outstretched, and palm spread wide, she went to slap Misaki. But before she came anywhere near making contact, Usami's own hand had gracelessly extended to squish into her face. He pushed her away, lazily, one arm shielding Misaki unconsciously.

She stumbled, Usami's gesture more symbolically insulting than physically affecting.

Meanwhile, the crowd around them were stock still and gaping. Was this supposed to be someone's sick idea of _entertainment_ for the evening? The rich folk were at a loss as what to even think, and Usami's various managers were looking on in horror, already planning damage control out of reflex.

Misaki made eye contact with the woman, and he couldn't help but tighten his hands around Usami, goading.

What, had she thought that Usami was hers? That she had any right to be angry at Misaki? Did she really think that he was somehow her property because she had flirted with him and gotten him drunk? Misaki let loose another loaded grin, not above staking his claim now.

" Mine," Misaki hissed.

Because Misaki was too busy glowering at the woman threateningly, he didn't see the fond upturning of Usami's lips.

Later, after all the fuss was done, and some phone cords were disconnected, Misaki yelled at Usami. Impassioned beyond belief, he reprimanded the man for even _allowing_ that stupid woman to touch him so much (not giving any reason as to why it bothered him so). In so many words, Misaki made it clear that Usami was a top grade idiot, and that he was irrevocably mad at him for making a scene.

Still intoxicated, Usami stated simply that 'he'd rather be drunk on Misaki.'

Though he gave no real response to Misaki's abuse, it took surprisingly little convincing on Misaki's part before they were both overwhelmed in heat and sensation

The make-up sex, so to speak, was languid and frenzied, frustrated and tender all at once. A barrage of feeling to compliment the maelstrom their relationship had always been.

Laying satisfied and exhausting in a heap, curled into each other, Misaki felt protective and possessive of his happiness. The arm lazily draped over Usami's form was a statement in itself.

And the mumbled " I love you, only you, _Misaki,_" that Usami had uttered was plain in meaning. So was the way he'd proceeded to drive the boy crazy, trailing his lips down his neck, never relinquishing.

Despite everything, it only followed the order of things, that Misaki would fervently deny being _'jealous.' _He stuck his nose up in the air.

" That's just petty, Usagi-idiot. Why would I be jealous, anyway? Stupid."

Even suffering from a horrible hangover, Usami couldn't stop himself from laughing.

Misaki, who had since crossed his arms like a petulant child, and who was looking away with the tiniest of blushes (effectively betraying his air of nonchalance), had grown up a lot, and in some ways, hadn't matured at all.

And of course, it only followed the natural order of things that Misaki would later peck Usami on the cheek, mumbling against his skin, " Maybe I was, just a little."

* * *

AHH. Okay, firstly, I know this is horrendously out of character. This took on a life of its own (seriously, it was scary). It originated from a mood prompt (jealousy,,gee, could you have guessed that?). Anyway, this is set some years into the future of the Romantica relationship. I figured Misaki would have slowly (slowly!) but surely become more assertive with Usami, and that includes a general possessiveness.

I realize it's a stretch, but let's just say Misaki has been to one too many parties where women hung all over _his_ Usami. This time was the last straw, because Usami was drunk and actually allowed it more than usual. Usami's a mad flirt, of course, and add alcohol and you get a recipe for disaster.

I know. Don't kill me. It's just a fun little thing that popped into my head, and a simple 'mad case' of having to write it down.

Review? I'd love to hear what you made of this. :)

Love,  
Kyla


End file.
